


Fragments

by SagittariusPrincess



Category: BioShock, BioShock Infinite
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Definitely an alternate universe, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lobotomy, Medical Horror, More tags to be added, Strained Relationships, Trauma, Whump, eventually gets a happy ending but not without angst and suffering, one sided elizabeth/atlas, romance and trauma, strained mother/daughter relationships, this slowly turns into a romcom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SagittariusPrincess/pseuds/SagittariusPrincess
Summary: Jack Ryan's plans certainly did not include finding a lobotomized woman and nursing her back to health in a tiny, cramped apartment-but then again, his plans have always been of the unpredictable kind.Love blossoms between the two but, as Elizabeth regains her memories, they realize that the sinister past they've left behind isn't finished haunting them.
Relationships: Atlas/Elizabeth (BioShock), Elizabeth/Jack (BioShock), Robert Lutece/Brigid Tenenbaum
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24





	1. Fragments

**Author's Note:**

> This is an absolute mess. Enjoy.

The pain felt like a lifetime.

Cold pick in her eye, the stench of rotting pipes and sea water, the sound of his voice-he was _mocking_ her. She struggled for air-she could _feel_ her skull being hammered into-he stopped after each tap-was it only a tap? It felt as if an entire rock was being brought to her head every time he tapped the pick. Deeper and deeper into her skull. In the blink of an eye, she would lose it all.

Every memory, every emotion, every event. Perhaps, if she were _especially_ lucky, she would never speak again. Another tap-closer to everything that made _her._ Perhaps it was for the best. All he would leave of her would be an empty shell. She would become useless to him.

_Excruciating._

Her lips trembled as she struggled to muster up another yell-another cry of anguish that she _knew_ wouldn't ease the pain or make the process go faster.

One final tap that felt as if her skull was being split in half.

The pain felt like a lifetime.

That was _it._

A vast sea of emptiness and silence. She could hear his murmurs and could feel his rough fingertips against her face-but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. She could hardly remember what had happened mere moments ago.

The ghost of a smile formed on her lips and she closed her eyes.

The world faded to black.

* * *

It had been one of the girls who had led him there-a little blonde with a timid voice who had begged him to come for _her._ He didn't know who _'her_ ' was but, for some odd reason, he had been compelled to oblige to the little one's teary request.

He found _her_ there-laying on a broken, stained hospital cot with one arm hanging limply off of the cot. Her dark hair spilled onto the pillow in a knotted mess, her blouse was stained with blood and sweat, her lipstick was smudged, and her eyes were swollen shut. He might have thought her dead if it had not been for the labored rise and fall of her chest.

"Help her," the little girl whispered, grabbing his hand and squeezing it gently. He said nothing for a moment, strangely intrigued by such a gruesome sight. "Help her."

He slowly let go of the girl's hand and approached the woman-she was pretty, even in such a devastating state. He was unsure what to do. He _could_ take her back to the woman but there was no guarantee that she would help the stranger. After all, she could very well be an enemy. Though he was doubtful that she could cause much damage in such a state. 

He slowly reached out towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder before shaking her gently, his blue gaze never leaving her face.

Her lips twitched slightly and he immediately retracted his hand, wondering if she would continue to stir. He glanced at the girl, who clung her doll to her chest nervously-she was focused on the woman on the cot.

Her hand twitched and her breathing became hitched-he watched with morbid curiosity as she attempted to open her eyes. But she could not. Her lips twitched again and a small groan escaped her lips. 

"Hello?" His voice was a mere whisper and he was unsure if the woman had heard him at all. "Are you there?"

Her response was a whimper and he heard the little girl sniffle. 

"Help her," the girl repeated, grabbing the sleeve of his sweater and tugging at it. "You have to help her. _Please_."

* * *

"She's waking up." It was a woman's voice, cold and devoid of emotion, that rang in her ear. Her eyes fluttered open-it _hurt_ to open them. The bright lights that hanged directly above her certainly did not help the situation, either. She turned her head away from the light-and that was when she felt a heavy throbbing in her head. She closed her eyes once more and instinctively brought her hand to her head. 

Where was she? 

"Are you awake?" The woman's voice again. "What is your name?"

Her name. 

She did not have a name-not one that she could recall. 

She could recall nothing.

"Miss?" The woman's voice grew closer. "What is your name?"

"I-" the sound of her own voice sounded foreign to her and she struggled to form her thoughts. "No...."

"No, what?" 

"I-I don't...know."

"Don't know what your name is?"

"Yes."

"I see."

"W...Where am I?"

"Can you remember anything?"

"No...."

"What is the last thing you can remember?"

"Waking up." There was silence for a moment and she tried to open her eyes once more, desperately wanted a glimpse of the woman. But all she could see was the woman's blurry outline-shades of white, purple, and brown danced around in her vision. 

"You need rest."

"Wait."

"What?"

"What happened to me?" 

The only response was the gradually fading clicking of heels. And that was all she remembered before slipping into darkness once more.

* * *

The only sound she could hear was the humming of lamps. 

She opened her eyes-it still hurt, but the pain was far more bearable than before. She could keep her eyes open. _Progress._ She took in the ceiling-the lights had been dimmed and she could make out a web of thin cracks. The smell of seawater made her feel nauseous. She felt something squeeze her hand and she slowly brought her head to the side-the splitting pain in her skull was still present.

Her eyes began to focus; a little girl sat by her, clutching her hand. The woman said nothing for a moment, studying the girl's features. There was a lifetime that she could not remember-a lifetime where she must have been able to remember her own name. Must have known the girl's face. There was a lifetime that had been taken from her.

She wanted it back.

"You're awake," the girl began, her blue eyes growing wide with joy-a smile formed on her lips and she squeezed the woman's hand more tightly. "You're awake!" 

The woman brought her free hand to her ear, closing her eyes. The child's cry had hurt.

"Sorry," the little girl whispered, letting go of the woman's hand.

"No," the woman whispered, extending her hand-she did not know who this child was but she wanted the comfort. Wanted to feel something other than emptiness. "Stay." She opened her eyes once more and stared at the girl-tears were brimming in the girl's eyes as she took her hand once more. "Do you know my name?"

"Elizabeth." The girl smiled. "Your name's Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth." Her own name felt strange on her lip. "My name's Elizabeth."

"Yes." She smiled softly. "You're Elizabeth."

Elizabeth-she had a name now-stared at the girl's smile and attempted to mimic it, slowly lifting the corners of her lips. 

"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked, still attempting to smile. 

"Sally," the girl whispered, clutching onto Elizabeth's hand. "I'm Sally."

"It's...nice to meet you, Sally." Perhaps they had met before. But that was all gone-whatever previous fragments of a lifetime she must have lived were gone. The only memories she could call her own were the previous conversation with the blur of a woman and Sally's hand in hers. "Are we alone?"

"No. Miss Tenenbaum is in the other room and Mr. Jack's away-but he'll be back."

"Miss Tenenbaum? Did she...bring me here?"

"No. Mr. Jack did. But Miss Tenenbaum is taking care of you."

"Sally-what happened?" 

The only response was silence. _What_ were they keeping from her? Why was that question so dreaded? 

"Sally, please...tell me," Elizabeth whispered, clutching onto the girl's hand. "I need to know-I can't remember _anything_. I need you to help me." 

"I...I'll go tell Miss Tenenbaum that you're awake." Before Elizabeth could say anything else, Sally was gone.

Elizabeth closed her eyes once more; the interaction with Sally had exhausted her. She took a breath and attempted to smile once more. 

At least she knew her name.

* * *

"I do not think she is well enough to make the trip," a woman's voice-was this the 'Miss Tenenbaum' that Sally had spoken of?-began.

"Are you suggesting we just leave her here?" a male's voice, agitated and strained, replied. "She'll die."

"I know she will."

Elizabeth whimpered as she opened her eyes-the pain had begun to fade-and her gaze focused on two figures above her.

"You're awake," the man replied, a soft smile forming on his lips. His blue gaze was kind-

Another blue gaze had been sinister. Sadistic. But it belonged to another-to someone she did not remember.

"Yes," Elizabeth replied. "My name's Elizabeth." 

"Hm." The sound came from the woman and Elizabeth's gaze met hers-a cold hazel gaze hiding years of pain. "So you know your name."

"Sally told me."

"Yes. Sally told me you had spoken-do you remember her?"

"Just our conversation."

"Do you remember anything?" 

"No."

"I see." The woman raised a dark brow and sat down. "How are you feeling?"

"Are you Miss Tenenbaum?"

"Yes-now answer my question."

"It doesn't hurt to open my eyes anymore."

"The swelling's gone down," the man replied, smiling down at Elizabeth. 

"The swelling," Elizabeth repeated, nodding slowly-there was still a dull ache in her head.

"Yes. That's good," Tenenbaum muttered, lighting herself a cigarette. 

"What did you mean?" 

"About what?"

"That I wasn't well enough to make the trip."

"Can you stand?" Tenenbaum raised a dark brow. Elizabeth's jaw clenched and she swallowed. 

"I-I-I can try."

"No," the man whispered. "We have a wheelchair." 

"Yes. We do," Tenenbaum replied. 

"We're not leaving without her."

"We cannot wait any longer."

"Then I'll carry her."

"I can try to walk!" Elizabeth cried out, forcing herself to sit up-her body felt heavy and it took every inkling of her strength to do such a simple motion, but she had done it. "I can try to walk." She closed her eyes as she attempted to catch her breath.

"Perhaps not all of her has been lost," Tenenbaum mumbled to herself, the ghost of a smile forming on messily painted lips. Elizabeth stared at her for a moment. What had she meant by _that_ comment? 

"Do you need help?" the man asked, making his way over towards Elizabeth. "Are you alright?" Elizabeth stared at him for a moment-she felt her eyes grow heavy once more and she smiled softly as she gazed into his his eyes once more-they were the first thing she had woken up to.

And they were the last thing she saw before slipping off into the darkness once more.

* * *

She did not stir as he and Tenenbaum placed her into the wheelchair. She always seemed incredibly peaceful when she was asleep and he could not help but wonder if she dreamt. If she dreamt of a life that she no longer knew. 

He did. He dreamt of a life that had never belonged to him. A life that had been but a cruel illusion. 

"Come," Brigid's voice rang in his ear. "We're ready."

"Wait," he muttered, going over towards the bed. Brigid said nothing but he could almost imagine the look of disappointment and confusion on her face. He grabbed a blanket and placed it over Elizabeth. "There." He smiled at Brigid. 

She did not smile in return.

But he was used to it-he was unsure if he had ever seen her smile. But she had shown kindness to the woman-to Elizabeth. 

She had saved her.

* * *

The sound of a siren woke her up and she sat up, gasping for air and covering her ears. She felt tears roll down her cheeks-why was she crying? Nothing was wrong. She was fine. 

But she knew that she _wasn't._

It was the ceiling that first caught her attention. There was no light hanging over her and the cracks she had memorized were missing. Her eyes scanned the room-the walls were freshly bleached and a wheelchair was tucked away in the corner of the room. She could hear the sound of engines in the distance. She could no longer smell sea water or rusting pipes.

She heard the door creak open. Her stomach dropped and a whimper escaped her lips. She was afraid. Afraid of a door opening. And she didn't know why. All she knew was that she wanted the door closed; she was afraid of whatever might be behind that door. 

The little girl slipped into the room and Elizabeth allowed herself a sigh of relief. 

"Are you awake?" The little girl whispered, looking up at Elizabeth with wide eyes and and managing a soft smile. 

"Yes," Elizabeth replied. The little girl approached her bed and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "Where are we?"

"New York."

The name was vaguely familiar-it was a name she must have known in another life. She stared at the wall for a moment, trying to remember. Trying to find some fragment of her past that she could piece together. 

But there was nothing.

All she knew was that her name was Elizabeth. That there was a woman named Tenenbaum, a little girl named Sally, and a young man with bright blue eyes and a smile that she had memorized-if she closed her eyes, she could see the corner of his lips turning upwards.

"Does it hurt?" Sally asked. 

"Hm?" Elizabeth raised a brow and Sally pointed to her arm. Elizabeth looked down; an IV was taped to her arm. "No-didn't even notice it was there." She smiled softly and closed her eyes again. "Sally, can you tell me what happened?"

"I-" Sally's eyes grew wide and she clutched her doll closely to her-Elizabeth knew that doll. 

_The feeling of the doll's hand against her palm. A photograph in her other hand. Sally with Sarah. 1957._

"Her name's Sarah?" Elizabeth asked, pointing at the doll.

"Y-yes." 

"You didn't tell me that before, did you?"

"N..no..."

She was remembering. It was a miniscule detail, perhaps of no importance, but she had remembered it nonetheless. 

_Progress._

"Sally?!" The male's voice called out. Elizabeth head snapped towards the door. "Sally, where are you?!"

"In here!" Sally cried out. The door opened and he walked in, flashing a smile at Elizabeth. 

"She's been bothering you?" He asked, approaching her. Elizabeth shook her head and smiled. "Come on, Sally. She needs rest."

"O-okay." Sally gave Elizabeth's hand another gentle squeeze before running out of the room and leaving her alone with him.

He was handsome-even with his dirty blond hair uncombed and a wrinkled sweater. Her eyes travelled to his lips. There was that smile that she had memorized-she hoped it never left his lips. 

"Hopefully she didn't disturb you too much?"

"Sally? No. I like her." Elizabeth mustered a smile, her gaze never leaving the man's lips. "I don't like being alone."

"So you don't mind if I stay awhile?"

"Not at all." 

"Thanks."

"I-I don't know your name."

"Jack." Sally had mentioned a Mr. Jack-he was the one who had found her. He extended a hand out towards her. "You're Elizabeth."

"Yes." She stared at his outstretched hand for a moment-there was a chain tattooed on his wrist. 

_A man by a lighthouse, standing tall._

_A savior._

She brought her hand to her head and closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. 

"Are you alright?" Jack whispered, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Elizabeth?"

"My head just hurts...that's all."

"What do you remember?" 

Elizabeth turned to face him once more. Yes, he was the savior that she had seen. Before, he had been shrouded in shadows. A faceless man who promised a safe haven. A personal paradise.

Without second thought, her hand reached out towards his face and she placed her palm against his cheek. He was _real._ He wasn't some hallucination that she had conjured up in her delirium. 

"Elizabeth," he whispered, placing his large hand on top of hers. "What do you remember?"

"I remember _you_."


	2. Hallucinations

_Unbearable silence save for the steady pulse of the water. Tears rolled down soft cheeks and sunlight poured in through the window, illuminating a sorrowful visage-her skirts were heavy with water._

_She slowly brought her gaze to the water and her reflection stared back-a hollow, sapphire gaze, a bruised face, hair shorn short, and chapped lips slightly parted. What a sorrowful portrait of a girl she was._

_Unbearable silence._

_The water rippled, distorting her reflection. Breaking it up into a million different fragments that travelled throughout the water, pulled in opposite directions._

_She watched as the water steadied once more-but it was not her reflection that she saw._

_The bloated face of a drowned man-blackened lips, peeling skin, and cheeks covered in grime._

_His eyes opened-his irises had been replaced by an empty white film._

_Unbearable silence._

_His hand emerged from the water and gripped her by the skirts, dragging her down with him into a cold, watery tomb._

She woke up, shrieking. She was soaked in her own sweat and she clung onto the bedsheets in a futile attempt to comfort herself. She was alone-there was no rotting corpse clinging onto the skirt of her nightdress nor was the sun out-her eyes glanced at the window. It was night. 

The door swung open and Jack ran in, headed straight towards Elizabeth.

"I...I'm fine," she muttered, taking deep breaths. She felt his hand squeeze her shoulder gently and she closed her eyes. "I'm fine...."

"What happened?" He asked, staring at her. She could only imagine how pathetic she looked-tears rolling down her cheeks and lips quivering in fear.

"I saw a corpse."

" _What?_ "

"In a dream-he...he had drowned. And then he grabbed me and I-" She felt her stomach turn. "I need to use the restroom." She slowly pulled her covers off and tried to get up-her body trembled and she clung onto the edge of the bed as she forced herself to stand up. She slowly removed her hand and took a slow, careful step. 

"Let me help you." She felt his arms loop around her waist-they were warm against her. They were comforting. 

She was not alone. 

"Thank you," she whispered as she took small, excruciating steps. "I knew his face."

"Huh?"

"I knew his face-the corpse. I know that I-" She felt her throat grow tight and she brought her hand to her head. The splitting pain had returned. 

"Elizabeth, are you alright?"

"No." She swallowed and placed her hands on his arms as she continued to walk-he was so warm against her. A steady foundation among scrambled thoughts and fragmented memories.

A constant among variables.

He helped her through the narrow hallway-pitch black and seemingly growing narrower as she continued to walk; it was almost suffocating.

A woman stared back at her at the end of the hall.

Her eyes were sapphire and bruised. Elizabeth brought her hand to her eye and the woman at the end of the hall followed suit. 

"Who is she?" Elizabeth whispered, pointing at the woman. The woman pointed in return.

"Your reflection," Jack whispered. It was only then that Elizabeth realized _his_ reflection, large arms wrapped around her waist-it was her reflection. So similar to the one she had seen in her dream. In her _vision._

But her hair was longer and it was a white negligee she wore-there was no velvet skirt that the corpse's hand had gripped onto. 

"I look awful," she whispered, lips twitching slightly. Jack laughed-the sound startled her and she pushed away from him. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her dark hair. "I'm sorry-I didn't-"

"I didn't mean to frighten you," Jack muttered, placing his hands on Elizabeth's shoulders. "Sounds startle me too."

"I don't know why...you were just laughing...that was stupid of me."

"No. No it wasn't." She felt his fingertips brush against her face-

_She could feel his rough fingertips against her face. His cold blue gaze studied her as if she were a specimen rather than a person. Oh, but to him she **was** a specimen-_

_Her gaze travelled to his lips and she heard him laugh._

_Loud. Startling. Sinister._

"Atlas." Her eyes grew distant and they focused on the mirror-Jack's reflection was gone. In its place stood the man with the cold blue gaze and a malevolent grin.

_Atlas._

Her world faded to black.

* * *

Brigid stared at her. Jack was correct; she seemed peaceful in her sleep. As if she had never seen a bad day in her life, though Brigid knew that it was but an illusion.

At least she _could_ sleep. Brigid never could. Once upon a time, when she had been a child, she had slept soundly through the night. Through the shattering of windows and the cries of her neighbors.

But those days were long gone. She hardly knew who that girl was. In fact, she pretended that she never existed. But she could never completely forget her. Not when her reflection was that child-smiling and content. A child whose innocence had not yet been stripped away.

"Scheiße," she muttered to herself as she shakily pulled a cigarette from her purse. Her hands were shaking as she brought the cigarette to her lips; she hated feeling this way. She wanted the child's memory out of her mind. She wished that child had never existed.

"You alright in there?" Jack's soft voice trailed through the hallway.

" _Ja_ -Yes. Just...thinking."

"Thank you for coming over." Jack slowly walked into the room, his eyes focused on the sleeping brunette on the bed. "She just...collapsed."

"She is adjusting." 

"She said his name."

"Who?"

"Atlas'." Brigid grew still for a moment and she felt her jaw clench. She never wanted to hear that bastard's name again. _Atlas._ No. He wasn't Atlas to her. He would always be Frank Fontaine. He would always be _filth._ "She knows him."

"Of course she does-only _he_ would be capable of performing such a terribly executed lobotomy." Brigid returned to her cigarette, fishing out a lighter from her bag. 

"Do you think she'll ever...fully remember things?"

"No. She's lucky that was all she lost. Some people, they are not so lucky. They lose _everything._ They do not remember how to even eat. But she-she is lucky...she gets to create a new life. She does not remember her sorrow. Some of us are not so lucky."

"Dr. Tenenbaum-"

"I am fine." She held out her hand and shook her head. She hated pity. She hated empty apologies that were nothing more than rehearsed responses. "Bring her a glass of water and we will see if she is able to drink when she wakes."

"Do yo-"

"No." Jack nodded and slowly made his way out of the room, leaving Brigid with the woman-with _Elizabeth_ -alone once more. 

Elizabeth's eyes slowly opened and she sat up, gasping for air-without second thought, Brigid ran to her bedside and grabbed her by her hand-not as a gesture of kindness, but as a way to ground her.

"You are awake," Brigid muttered, staring into the woman's frightened eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," she replied, squeezing Brigid's hand. 

"Lie down." Brigid released the woman's hand and helped her lie back down; there was a thin stream of blood running down her nose. "Let me get you a handkerchief." Brigid sighed as she made her way towards her purse. "You are lucky."

"Huh?"

"You are lucky that all you've lost is your memory. Other people lose _everything._ "

"I don't understand what you mean." A pause. "...Do you know what happened to me?"

"I do." Brigid returned to her bedside and carefully wiped the blood away from her nose. 

"Tell me."

"What do you remember, Elizabeth?"

"You know I don-" They were interrupted by Jack-he had a glass of water in one hand and a plate of biscuits in the other.

"Thought you two might be hungry," Jack smiled. "D...Did I interrupt something?"

"I want to know what happened to me," Elizabeth began, her voice breaking as she forced herself to sit back up again. 

"Elizabeth-"

"Tell me what happened." 

"I-"

"Answer the question-I'm tired of you two never answering me!"

"You were lobotomized," Brigid finally replied, averting her gaze. 

Silence. It was the silence that Brigid had learned to hate. She had always found silence more devastating that loud cries and screams.

Silence was the language of the defeated. 

"I was lobotomized," Elizabeth repeated-Brigid could hear her voice breaking as she spoke. 

"You're okay," Jack whispered, attempting to comfort the girl. 

Brigid focused her gaze on the floor; she had never been one to comfort people. She _couldn't._ Perhaps the little girl that she had distanced herself from could. Perhaps she had once been compassionate and kind-had held her mother's hand in the dead of night as glass shattered throughout the streets. Perhaps she had held her frightened grandmother and had stroked her hair, promising that it would all be well. That they would be safe.

_'What a stupid child.'_

"Save your tears," Brigid muttered, standing up. "What is done is done."

"I can't remember anything-I...I can't remember anything."

"That is not a bad thing, Elizabeth. In fact, that is what I would call a _blessing_."

* * *

Her reflection was still foreign to her- her fingertips rested against her bruised eye, pressing gently at it every few moments. The pain was nearly gone-the only reminder of the procedure where the bruises. Soon they would fade-there would be no physical evidence to ever suggest she was lobotomized.

She shivered. The only evidence that would remain was a life that had been lost. That had been forgotten and could not be recuperated. 

Her fingertips travelled to her nose, pinching its bridge, before travelling down to her chapped, ripped lips. They shivered at her touch and she closed her eyes. She should be in bed. She should be asleep. She shouldn't be alone in a dimly lit bathroom attempting to remember _herself._

Perhaps Brigid had been right. Perhaps it _was_ a blessing that she could not remember anything. She was certainly grateful she couldn't remember undergoing the procedure. 

She opened her eyes. Her fingers ran through her long, dark hair for a moment, combing through the tangles and knots. 

There was a knock on the door. 

"Elizabeth?" Jack's gentle voice called out.

"Yes?" She mumbled, turning to face the door.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"...Can I come in?"

"...Yes." 

The door creaked open and Jack walked in, a robe tied around his tall, muscular figure-he towered over Elizabeth, a delicate porcelain doll dressed in a silk nightgown. He smiled at her and, for a moment, all her worries, confusion, and sorrow dissipated-she was _home_. 

"How was the walk from your room?"

"It was bearable," Elizabeth replied, managing a rehearsed smile. 

"I'm sorry I w-"

"Don't apologize. I should be asleep."

"Then why aren't you?"

"Why do you think?"

Jack chuckled and leaned against the counter, an eyebrow raised and she felt his gaze travel along her body. Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow warm and she averted her gaze. He made her feel warm with his mere presence. Made her feel whole rather than the fragmented pieces of a shattered woman.

"Why are _you_ here?" Elizabeth asked, raising a brow and glancing at him. He had pulled a cigarette out of his robe's pocket. 

"Couldn't sleep either." He lit his cigarette and pulled the box out, holding it out towards Elizabeth. "Want one?"

"Sure." She took the box from him and pulled out another cigarette, staring at it for a moment before bringing it up to her lips. Jack inched closer to her, holding his lighter out-his face was illuminated by the firelight and her eyes met his-her lips trembled as he inched closer and closer to her, bringing the lighter to her cigarette. "Thank you."

"Of course."

He did not inch away. She felt his hand brush against hers. The world seemed to stop for a moment-any worries that were constantly running through her mind had been paused and all she knew was that she and Jack were standing in a room illuminated only by the lights of their cigarettes and his hand was on hers.

She closed her eyes and lowered her cigarette from her lips as she felt his face inch closer to hers. His hand caressed her cheek and she felt her lips tremble. 

"Are you going to kiss me?" she murmured, a small smile forming on her chapped lips. He replied by pressing his lips against hers, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

_Hands around her waist, drawing her closer and closer to him. Her lips parted and she swayed with him-the sound of a band drifted in the background-they sounded awful, but it didn't matter._

_She felt him inch closer to her lips-her breathing hitched and she opened her eyes-a blue gaze stared back at her. But they were not **his.**_

She pushed Jack away, focusing her gaze on the floor tiles.

"Are you alright?" Jack asked, releasing his arm from her waist. "Elizabeth?"

"He wasn't you," Elizabeth muttered. "I thought that, for a moment, I remembered you-but he wasn't you and I-" She stopped herself. She was rambling. "I need some air."

"Okay-I'll leave the door open."

"Mhm." Elizabeth slipped out into the hallway, attempting to calm herself. What she had seen was nothing-it had been a fragment of some disjointed memory, if even that. She _had_ been recovering-at least, physically.

She could walk by herself-for a bit-but it was far easier to take a step than it had been before. Her legs still ached and she found herself steadying herself against walls, but she could walk by herself.

"Elizabeth," Jack whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ov-"

"Jack...." She turned around to face him. "You have nothing to apologize for-I need some air."

"Okay."

"Thank you." She began to walk, desperately attempting to ignore the shaking of her legs. She could do this. She _had_ to do this. She could not spend the rest of her new life laying in bed, waking only when a nightmare disrupted her. 

She made her way into the kitchen-a sorry looking thing scattered with plates and brown paper bags-and walked into the living room, heading towards the white door. She was going to go outside-a mundane task that she must have done hundreds of times without even so much as thinking before.

But it was different now-her life was now comprised of _firsts._ First time waking up, first time sitting up, first time eating a _damn_ meal. First time leaving her home-a strange milestone for a woman in her mid twenties, but a milestone nonetheless.

Her hand reached towards the golden doorknob and she slowly turned it, cracking the door open just a bit. She could see glimmers of light and slowly poked her head out of the door-an empty hallway with eggshell colored wallpaper.

She opened the door completely. 

"Elizabeth, wait." Jack's voice sent a shiver down her spine and Elizabeth turned around to face him. He held slippers in one hand and a cream colored sweater in the other. "Don't want you running around barefoot."

"Thank you." She took the slippers and the sweater from him, her hand brushing against his.

"Don't stay out too long." He smiled again and, for a moment, she felt warmth. Comfort. 

"I won't." 

She wrapped the sweater around herself-it was far too large on her. It was _his_ sweater. A reminder of his arms around her, holding her so wonderfully close.

She stepped into the slippers and took a breath.

She stepped out into the light.

* * *

She didn't know where she was going. The hallway had been endless-its twists and turns were many and sudden. She had arrived in front of an elevator and had taken it to the bottom floor, not knowing where she was going.

She had exited into a lobby, brimming with people. She could hear the shouts of men arguing with the frazzled secretary at the front desk, hear the high, shrill laughter of women as they entered through the revolving front door, she could smell the scent of cigarettes and booze in the air, but she could not focus on their _faces_.

They were blurs-blocks of different colored suits and hair with no distinguishable features. Blurs pushing past her, not bothering to even acknowledge the small woman dressed in only a thin slip and a sweater four sizes too large for her. She was as invisible to them as they were to her.

They were ghosts-

Except for one.

Her gaze focused on _him._ He entered through the revolving doors with a confident stride, cigarette between his lips that were stuck in a perpetual smirk. 

She knew that smirk-it seemed so close, yet so foreign. She felt her stomach drop and she averted her gaze for a moment-no, this wasn't someone she knew. He was merely a man that resembled someone she must have known.

But his face-

_it was the face she had seen in the mirror. The reflection that had stood beside her. His ever present smirk had been branded into her memory. Not even a lobotomy could erase that._

She brought her gaze towards him again-his eyes were sapphire and a dark eyebrow was raised-his gaze was focused on passing women whose laughter never seemed to fade away.

Her lips quivered as she watched him-watched his head turn towards her and stare at her. 

She _wanted_ to run. Wanted to shout and sprint towards the elevator and lock the door behind her. She knew him. And she knew that he knew her. It was evident by that shit eating grin of his. That gaze that seemed to know her _so_ very well. 

He smirked at her.

_The glint of an icepick-his hand gripping her head, forcing her to look at him. To look at her fate-he was the bastard who had done this to her._

_Atlas._


	3. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Robert simps.

She sat in the bathtub, holding her knees to her chest as she felt the cold water engulf her. Chapped lips were parted slightly and sapphire eyes were fixated on a bleached wall tile-tears rolled down flushed cheeks and her chest rose and fell in quick pulses.

She had _seen_ him. And he had seen her-he and his cold, cruel excuse for a smile had acknowledged her existence. She was afraid that if she even glanced at her reflection, he would be right beside her, hand wrapped around her delicate throat.

A knock on the door. 

"Elizabeth?!" Jack's voice called out. "Elizabeth, are you alright?"

She did not answer-she _could_ not answer. 

"Elizabeth-can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she finally replied, closing her eyes. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired."

"You've been in there for an hour-the sun's coming up."

"It is?"

"Do you want to see the sunrise?"

Elizabeth stared at the water for a moment, unable to reply. She could not recall seeing a sunrise. She had seen the sun seeping in through the window and had felt its warm rays on her face, but she could not recall a sunrise.

All she could recall were Jack's arms around her, the room illuminated by the light of his cigarette, and his lips against hers. 

"Give me a moment!" Elizabeth slowly got up from the bathtub and reached for a towel, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. "Jack?"

"Yes?"

"Could you get me something to wear?"

"Sure."

She took a breath and smiled at her reflection before grabbing a brush-she wanted to look presentable. To look as if she hadn't been crying for the past hour. To look as if she hadn't seen _him._ As if she hadn't seen that awful smirk that was burned into her memory-of all the memories she had lost, his smirk had not been one of them. _He_ had not been one of them.

She hadn't told Jack-she _couldn't_ tell Jack. She only hoped that he had not followed her-she had been to afraid to turn back. 

A knock on the door.

Elizabeth nervously wrapped the towel around herself and opened the door a crack. 

"I brought you something," Jack whispered, extending a crumpled pile of clothes towards her. Elizabeth managed a soft smile.

He smiled in return. She could get lost in that smile; his smile was the sunlight. It was the sunrise she was about to go see with _him._

She slowly reached for the clothes and her fingertips brushed against his-how silly it seemed that such a simple touch could awaken her. 

"Thank you," she whispered. But she did not withdraw her fingertips from his. Perhaps she was afraid that if she did, he would vanish. Go up in smoke like a phantom. 

"Elizabeth...you can tell me anything you'd like."

"Jack-I _can't_."

"Why not?"

"I just can't. Not right now." Perhaps not _ever_.

"I'll meet you in the living room." With that, Jack withdrew his hand and walked away. She stood by the door, watching him slip out of view. She could still feel his fingertips against hers-but he was gone.

She was alone.

* * *

The sky was a myriad of colors-the glow of the stars was beginning to fade and the sun's rays were just beginning to peak through, illuminating the navy sky with shades of blues, purples, oranges, and crimsons.

Tears welled in her eyes as she watched the sun slowly begin to rise-it was magic. A shaky breath escaped her lips and she felt his hand gently squeeze hers.

"It's alright," he whispered-she could feel his breath against her ear. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes."

She could feel the cool autumn breeze through her hair and his fingertips gently caressing hers. Another memory for her to remember. To replay again and again when she was unable to sleep in the middle of the night. 

Another memory.

"Thank you for bringing me up here," she whispered, glancing down at the streets so far below them-the cars and the people were merely blurs of different hues and sizes. Blurs of different hues and sizes who all had their own stories-their own _memories._ Their own lives. And she could not help but wonder if they were looking up at the two blurs who stood on the roof and wondered the same exact thing. 

"Elizabeth?"

"Hm?"

"What scared you?"

"...Hm?" She knew the inevitable question was coming-the question he had asked her less than an hour ago. 

"You looked like a ghost when you walked back in-I thought something had happened to you-and then you locked yourself in the restroom and I..." She turned to face him-the sun formed a halo around his head-a walking sculpture of some long forgotten Greek god. "I was _scared_."

"Nothing happened...I...I suppose I was simply...." She stopped for a moment-she imagined his lips against hers-his fingertips tangled in her hair-his body pressed against her own as the sun illuminated him. " _Overwhelmed_."

"Do you need someone to help? I can call Brigid if you'd like."

" _Help_?"

"Help _you_." 

"I feel fine."

"You're stubborn."

"He couldn't take _that_ away from me."

" _He_?"

Elizabeth bit her lip, eyes widening. No, she couldn't explain it-not now. She didn't want to ruin this memory with _his_ name. 

"I want you to kiss me," Elizabeth replied.

"You're changing the subject." She watched Jack's lips form into a half smirk and he took her other hand in his rough, coarse one. "You really want me to kiss you?"

"Yes."

"Sure." She felt his lips press against hers and the warm sun spill onto her face-and for a moment, all was fine-this memory would not be tainted. If everything else was lost, this one would remain.

 _Another memory_.

* * *

They arrived through the front doors-as anyone else would. Heads held high and pale eyes glancing to either side as they made their way towards the elevator. _She_ had never been rather fond of crowded places-and this lobby was no exception. The high pitched giggling, the scent of cheap perfume, the fluorescent lights that seemed to wash everything over with a sickly shade of yellow-it was revolting.

She could not help but allow herself a long sigh of relief as they walked into the elevator.

"Which floor was it again?" she asked, brushing out her long skirts.

"The top one," he replied, pressing the button. 

"I doubt she'll remember us."

"Perhaps she will."

"Perhaps she won't."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment and shrugged-if she didn't remember them now, she certainly _would._

The woman's eyes remained on the illuminated button, counting each ding of the elevator.

The doors slid open.

"This will be quite the surprise," she mumbled, the ghost of a smirk forming on her lips.

"Yes, it will," he replied, raising a brow.

"It truly is a shame."

"It is."

"It will be like meeting an entirely new person for the first time."

"The only difference is that we know more about her than _she_ does."

"Will we tell her?"

"No."

They stood in front of the door, staring at the doorknob for a moment. They were far from nervous-they were rarely nervous. They had no reason to be. In a moment's notice, they could simply disappear. 

If it all went horribly awry, they would simply vanish as phantoms did. It would be as if they had never even _been_ there.

The man knocked on the door.

* * *

"Can I help you?" Jack asked, still visibly surprised by the visitors that stood before him-they were tall, ginger haired, and wore smug expressions that made him feel ill at ease. Nothing about these two made him feel _comfortable._

"May we come in?" the man began.

"We've traveled quite a ways to come here," the woman added.

"What do you mean by 'come here?'" Jack raised a brow-had these people been sent by someone?

"We came to visit you," the woman replied.

"Who sent you here?"

"We sent ourselves," the man began, glancing away for a moment and brushing his shoulder. 

"I don't know either of you." 

"But we know you," the woman replied as a wry smile formed on her lips. "You are Jack Ryan, are you not?"

"How do you know my name?"

"Is Elizabeth here?" the man raised a brow.

"Who sent you?"

"We sent ourselves," the woman repeated. 

"Who are you?"

"Robert," the man extended a pale hand-Jack only stared at it. "And this my sister, Rosalind."

"A pleasure," Jack muttered.

"I doubt that," Rosalind replied, glancing at her brother. She wasn't wrong.

Jack said nothing for a moment and glanced at his shoes-he could lie. Tell them that Elizabeth wasn't here. Tell them that she had gone to run errands. Conveniently forget the fact that she was in the shower, getting ready for dinner. Con-

It was Sally who approached him, tugging at the sleeve of his sweater and looking up at him with her wide, pale eyes, wearing a small, timid smile.

"I'm hungry," she muttered, ignoring the twins. 

"I know-I just have some business to attend to. Give me a moment." Jack managed a small smile and placed his hand on Sally's head.

"Who are they?" Sally's eyes met Robert's and her smile became a frown-perhaps even she was ill at ease around these two.

"She has her eyes," Rosalind began.

"Indeed," Robert replied. "The spitting image."

"Why are you here?" Jack asked, allowing himself an exasperated sigh. "I'm a bit busy at the moment, if you couldn't tell."

"We wish to speak to Elizabeth," was Robert's calm response. Everything about them seemed so _eerily_ calm. So perfectly rehearsed-perfect diction, perfect outfits, perfect hair. But beneath their eyes, something was brewing. 

The calm before the storm.

"Do you know Elizabeth?" Jack locked his gaze with Robert's.

"Yes," Robert replied, lips barely moving. "We know her quite well."

"But we're afraid that she won't remember us," Rosalind interjected.

"He sent you here, didn't he?" Jack felt his blood boil-if they said anything else, he feared that he would strike the man. "Atlas sent you here."

"Absolutely not." Rosalind's face grew dark. 

"Then how do you _know_?"

"We just know."

"Who do you work for?"

Robert cleared his throat and stared at his sister. _She_ was the one running the show.

"We work for no one."

* * *

Brigid sat on the couch, a cup of tea filled with vodka in one delicate hand. Her eyes did not leave theirs. She did not trust them-she was unsure if anyone in the apartment did. 

"We've heard so much about you," Rosalind began, hands folded on her lap-the perfect portrait of a lady. 

"Mhm," Brigid replied, bringing the tea cup to her lips. "I have read much about you, as well." No, she did not trust them-but there was a certain level of respect she had for these two, especially the woman. This world did not treat women kindly. 

"How is the vodka?"

Brigid's hazel eyes widened in surprise-and she smiled. Rosalind smiled in return.

"It is tea."

"Certainly." Rosalind raised a brow and smiled in return. What a rare occurrence-a smile.

Robert had not spoken since he had politely introduced himself to Brigid. His eyes had been studying the geneticist-it was almost as if he had fallen into a trance. His gaze never left hers. 

"Does she remember anything at all?" Rosalind began, placing a hand on her brother's shoulder. It was only at Rosalind's touch that Robert seemed to wake from his trance and his eyes quickly focused on the pristine coffee table. 

"Fragments," Brigid replied, glancing at Robert. He seemed nervous. A variable to his sister's collected manner. "I told her she was lobotomized-she wakes, at times, screaming. She says they are nightmares but I know they are memories."

"Memories? How would you know that."

"I have them too." Brigid's eyes focused on the porcelain cup-it was similar to the set that her mother had owned. Her mother's most prized possession. For a poor family such as her own, the pride of owning a genuine porcelain set was a possibility of moving up one day. Of their situation improving.

She could still remember the sound of the cup shattering as her mother had heard the pounding on the door. She could remember the hope of improvement slipping away as her father had approached the door-their fate had been sealed.

"You just had one," Rosalind mumbled.

"...Yes."

"Do they wake you at night?"

"Yes." Brigid brought the cup to her lips. She was done speaking. Done with reminiscing on the past. It had happened. It was over. 

But it wasn't. It never would _be_. 

"The girl," Rosalind began, noting Brigid's tense posture. "What else does she remember?"

"She knows her name-and mine-and Jack's."

"And Sally?"

"Yes. She knows her name."

"That's it?"

"That is it."

Rosalind nodded slowly and turned to face her brother. Brigid could not help but wonder if he was usually so quiet. 

_Footsteps_. 

Brigid's gaze focused on the hallway and watched _her_ approach-dressed in a robe with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. The bruises underneath her eyes were faint and she could walk without falling. 

_Progress._

Elizabeth stopped as soon as she met eyes with Rosalind. Brigid could see the brunette's face grow pale.

"Elizabeth," Rosalind spoke. Her voice was calm. Direct. _Devoid of any emotion_. Robert's eyes travelled towards Elizabeth and she stepped back, shaking her head. 

"W-why are you here?" Elizabeth asked. "Brigid-why are they here?"

"They know you," was Brigid's quiet reply as she brought her cup to her lips once again-she was certainly going to need it. "Do you know them?"

"...I-Who let them in?"

"We let ourselves in," Rosalind began, "Your gentleman friend was not exactly the most hospitable."

"I-" Elizabeth stopped and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. "Can you please go?" 

"Do you remember us?"

"Can you _please_ go?"

"I believe she remembers very little," Robert finally began.

"Certainly," Rosalind replied. "No one goes through a procedure such as that and leaves unscathed."

"A shame."

"A shame, indeed."

"I don't remember you," Elizabeth muttered. Brigid knew that she was lying. 

"Now that truly _is_ a shame," Rosalind began, standing up and staring at Elizabeth. "We'll be back." The ginger turned towards Brigid. "Thank you for having us."

"This is not my home," was Brigid's curt reply.

"Thank you for having us," Robert repeated, his gaze focused on Brigid's-he was entranced once again.

Brigid swallowed, averting her gaze. She hated when men stared at her-it reminded her of _his_ gaze. 

"We'll show ourselves out," Rosalind muttered, raising a brow at her brother and turning to face Brigid. And, as if it had been in the blink of an eye, they had disappeared. Evaporated, almost.

Brigid drew in a breath and turned to face Elizabeth. She was pale and seemed as if she was ready to collapse at any moment. Without hesitation, Brigid wrapped an arm around her, steadying her. 

"I...I need to go get dressed," Elizabeth muttered. Brigid only nodded as she helped her to her room. "I-Their faces were so familiar."

"You know them," Brigid replied.

"...What?"

"You know them."

"I know their faces." 

"Is there a difference?"

" _No_."

* * *

There was a difference between the ghost of a memory and a memory that stood, breathing, blinking, speaking. And she did not know which was worse. The ghosts came at night-their soft voices whispering in her ear and the flashes of faces materializing in her dreams-and then she would wake, screaming and sobbing.

But they were gone. In the blink of an eye, they disappeared, leaving her alone.

 _They_ had been different-calm, serene voices and piercing pale eyes that seemed to follow her wherever she went. _She could not forget their faces._

"Elizabeth?" Jack's voice brought her back to the surface and she sat up, drawing in a breath. "Are you ready?"

"Almost," she replied, staring at her reflection in the mirror. A lie.

She wasn't ready-

She had dressed herself in a crimson dress and had combed her hair-it fell in soft waves past her shoulders and she had shakily put on rouge and lipstick. She felt like a child playing dress up with her mother's items. 

"You look pretty," Sally, who was sitting on the bed, said. Elizabeth turned to face her and managed a nervous smile. "Don't be scared."

"I'm not," she replied. Another lie.

"You look scared." Elizabeth bit her lip and took a breath. "I think Mr. Jack likes you." Elizabeth's fear was immediately replaced with embarrassment and her cheeks grew warm. "Do you like him?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice a whisper. The mere thought of his lips against hers made her heart race.

A knock on the door.

"Elizabeth?" Jack's voice called from outside the room. "You alright?"

"I'm coming!" Elizabeth picked up the purse that Brigid had let her borrow and she turned to face Sally-

_The hand of a little girl's in her own-long blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail and blue eyes wide with curiosity-she pointed at the department store window, displaying dolls._

_"I want this one!" The little girl cried out. "Mama!"_

_Mama._

Elizabeth brought her hand to her head and drew in a deep breath. That hadn't been a memory. It had been a hallucination-or at least that was what she told herself. 

It was simply less painful to believe.

Her eyes met Sally's once more-ocean blue and wide with sorrow. She was only a child.

_Time rots everything._

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth whispered-though she was unsure what it was that she was apologizing for. Before the little blonde could reply, Elizabeth slipped out the door and came face to face with Jack.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," Jack began, steadying her. "You alright?"

"Yes-just a...."

"A memory?"

"I-I don't know." A moment. "I don't want it to be."

"I know." She did not move as she felt his warm arms wrap around her small frame. She pressed her head against his chest and remained there for a moment. She did not want this moment to end. She wanted to remember this-remember this and nothing else. "I'm here."

"I-We should go." She looked up at him and forced herself to smile. "I'm famished."

"Okay." He smiled and took her hand it his, squeezing it gently. "Let's go."

* * *

The restaurant was cacophonous-the laughter of women, the scent of cheap perfume and cigarettes, and the endless drone of conversation were _deafening._

"We can leave if you'd like," Jack began, staring at her. Her eyes shifted from side to side and her fingertips tapped the table every few moments or so. Her anxious face was illuminated by the candlelight-even in this state, he could not help but think how beautiful she was. 

"No," she finally replied. "I'm fine...just....famished."

"As you wish." 

His gaze rested on her little hand as it nervously gripped onto the menu. Without much thought, he placed his hand on her own. A small gesture of kindness. 

"What are you having?" she muttered. 

"Don't know yet."

"I don't like the music here." He heard a small laugh escape her lips and turned to face the band that was playing off key. 

"I'll take you somewhere nicer next time."

"This is nice enough." Her crimson lips twisted into a small, gentle smile and she drew in a breath. "You didn't even need to take me out. I-" She stopped herself and bit her lip. "I feel like I'm embarrassing you."

"No-Elizabeth, you're n-"

"I just get so scared so easily and...I always think that _he's_ here and I can't enjoy anything-every time that I feel like I'm inching forward, I remember something that knocks me three steps back and...." Her voice broke and he watched as she forced back tears. "I just wish it would _stop_."

"It's okay. I'm right here."

"Promise me you'll stay."

"I promise." He brought her hand to his lips and smiled against her knuckles. "I won't leave you."

"Okay...you and Sally are all I have-" She stopped. "I haven't been very good to Sally, have I? Something tells me that I've hurt her-and I don't know what I've done to hurt her, bu-"

"She forgives you."

"I can't forgive myself."

"You will." His eyes met hers-sapphires filled with confusion, anxiety, and, beneath all of it, love. If she couldn't forgive herself, then he would. "I know you will."

"Okay." He held her hand for a moment before letting go of it.

"I'm going to go wash my hands." He smiled at her and stood up. "Sit tight-it won't take more than a moment."

"Alright." Elizabeth watched him walk off and she was hit with a feeling of nausea and dread-every time she was left alone, it felt as if her world was going to end. But she knew it wasn't. She knew that in a few moments, Jack would return and give her that smile that made all her worries melt away. That smile that she had felt against her lips.

The feeling of fingertips against her back-

They weren't Jack's fingertips; that much she knew. They were icy and calloused-and the touch caused her stomach to turn. 

"Hiya, lassie." The unmistakable sound of a faux Irish accent. The hint of an ever present snarl. She wasn't hallucinating. She wasn't trapped in a memory. She was awake-and _he_ was real.

She wanted to scream. To pick up her dinner knife and bury it deep into his neck. To run off-but she remained frozen in place. It was as if his touch had rendered her immobile.

"Miss me?"

"No," she muttered, her eyes glued to the table. She felt him move his fingertips from her and heard his footsteps-she looked up.

He sat across from her, slumped on the chair with his legs spread and a filthy hand on the table-his eyes rested on her neck and he wore that awful smirk that had been engrained into her memory.

"Ya' can speak," he began, grabbing the basket of bread and grabbing a roll. 

"I can."

"Guess I should'a gone in deeper."

"Why are you here?"

"I was just visitin' round town and I saw a familiar face-wanted to say hello. That's all." He took a bite out of his roll and raised a brow. "Ya' clean up nicely."

"You can leave now."

"Is that any way to treat an old pal?"

"You're not a _pal_."

"And how would you know? Last I heard, you couldn't even remember your own name."

"You did this to me."

"Did what to ya, lassie?" He leaned in and stared at her. "Ya' really do clean up nicely."

"Stay away from me." Her hand reached towards her knife.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya'."

"You have before." He chuckled in response before placing his thumb underneath her chin and lifting her face up-she closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, hoping that Jack would return soon. No, not hoping. _Praying_.

"There's no need to be scared."

"You should leave."

"Why? Are you scared that your lover boy's gonna catch us like this?"

"Leave him out of this."

"I don't think I will-I'm not finished with 'im yet." His finger hovered over her lip. "And I'm certainly not finished with you, either." She stared at him, forcing herself to hold back tears. She wasn't going to show him weakness. She refused to give him what he wanted. 

"What are you going to? Lobotomize me again in here? In front of all of these people?" 

"See you haven't lost that poisonous little tongue of yours. _Good._ I like it."

"Get your hands off of me."

"And what happens if I don't."

"I'll ram this knife into your skull." 

"In front of all these people?"

"I won't repeat myself."

Her hand gripped onto the knife. No more. She was tired of being scared-of being plagued with memories that she could not understand. She was tired of him haunting her. Taunting her. 

She had a second chance and she was going to _use_ it.

"I'm going to count to three," she began, her voice breaking. "Get your hands off of me."

"You're not going to hurt me."

"One."

"Lassie, I could crush you like a _bug_ if I really wanted to."

"Two."

"You won't do a damn thing and you _know_ it."

" _Three_."

She lifted the knife slightly, her hand shaking. She couldn't do it-he was right. All she could do was hurl empty threats at him-how _pathetic._

The sound of footsteps approached the table.

"Well look who it is," Atlas cried out, his terrible accent ringing in her ears. "Long time, no see, _Boyo_."


	4. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Mama Drama
> 
> [Also, CW: Vague Holocaust mentions]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm so sorry I haven't posted in so long. Work and school have been weighing on me and I haven't had time to write about my favorite 6 foot tall two year old. But I am returned. I hope you enjoy and, as always, thank you for the feedback <3

Sally stared at the glass of water on the coffee table, listening to the ticking of the clock. Her eyes were growing heavy and she felt her head beginning to fall, but she refused to sleep. She wanted to wait for Elizabeth and Jack to come home-they had been out for what seemed like _hours._

"You should get to bed, Sally," Brigid muttered as she walked into the small living room, her hair in curlers and a cup of hot coffee in her hands. "It's past midnight."

"Not yet," she replied, grabbing the pad of paper and a pencil off of the coffee table. Brigid sighed and sat beside the little blonde. "I want to make sure they're safe."

" _Safe_?"

"Yep."

"Alright." Brigid brought the mug to her lips and glanced at the girl. "Safe." Brigid swallowed and stared at the floor for a moment-there was a time when she had wanted to keep her family safe, as well-a family she could barely picture anymore. It caused too much grief.

 _There is no use crying over the dead._ It had been her mantra for years. It had been what had kept her mildly sane for so long-but sometimes, especially on long, silent nights, her thoughts would wander and she could picture the silhouette of her mother-small, with masses of hair down to her waist and a smile that could light up even the blackest of nights. 

Perhaps it was best if her mother had not seen what her daughter had become.

"Thank you for keeping me company, Missus Tenenbaum," Sally muttered, glancing at the woman. "I don't like being alone."

"I have been alone all my life," Brigid replied. It was not a cry of pity or sadness but rather a simple, unaffected statement. "But I am glad I can keep you company."

"You think she'll remember me?"

"In time." 

"I hope so." Sally frowned. "I miss her."

"I miss my mother too." Brigid's eyes widened slightly. She hadn't meant to admit that. 

"Maybe you'll get to see her again some day!"

Brigid had half a mind to laugh wryly at Sally's optimistic proposal. No, she would never see her mother again. The ghost of her mother, perhaps. But not her mother. But Sally didn't know-she couldn't have known. At least Sally had her mother-and she would remember her one day.

"Perhaps," Brigid replied, glancing at the ceiling. "Perhaps." 

"You will." Sally clasped Brigid's hand and rested her little head on her shoulder. Brigid tensed up for a moment-affection had always been foreign to her. She had isolated herself from any form of affection for so long-

It was easier that way.

But Brigid did not recoil nor push the little girl away. She squeezed her hand in return and closed her eyes. 

Brigid had been alone all her life-even as a child, she had preferred to spend her days in her room, curled up with a tattered copy of whatever book her father brought her home-but it was nice to have company. 

To have someone who, as strange as it might seem, knew what it meant to be alone.

What it meant to be _lonely_.

* * *

All she wanted to do was go home. She wanted to crawl into bed and become lost in her nightmares once more. At least she could snap awake from her nightmares. She could not snap awake here-no, she was wide awake and she could feel his hand on her thigh. His other hand rested on Jack's shoulder and his sapphire gaze glanced back and forth between the two.

The scent of tobacco and cheap perfume had become nearly unbearable and the band had devolved into playing some strange, chromatic tune that went far too fast for her to process.

"You're not going to let us leave, are you?" She muttered, refusing to stare at Atlas-her gaze was glued on the piano player that was hitting random keys, desperately hoping that _some_ sort of noise would come out of the piano.

"Let you _leave_?" Atlas chuckled and squeezed her thigh. "Why, we've only just begun."

"We've been here two hours."

"And we haven't even danced yet."

"I don't want to dance with you." 

Atlas smirked and brought his lips close to Elizabeth's ear. 

"Too bad you don't have much of a choice, sister."

Elizabeth's eyes darted towards Jack and she forced herself to take a breath. She wanted to go home. Wanted to crawl into bed beside Jack. Wanted to be held in his warm embrace. Wanted to forget every moment she was beginning to remember.

"You don't mind if I have one quick dance with her, do you _Boyo_?" Atlas squeezed Jack's shoulder and flashed a shit eating grin-he already knew the answer to the question. Jack had no choice but to accept.

"One dance," Jack muttered-Elizabeth felt her stomach drop as Atlas nearly forced her out of the chair and dragged her to the dance floor.

"You don't have to be so rough," Elizabeth began. "I can walk."

"Wasn't sure you could after your little procedure," Atlas replied, smirking. "Seems like I didn't do a good enough job on you-still as stubborn as ever, I see."

" _Fuck_ you."

"With pleasure." She closed her eyes and swallowed as she felt his arms wrap themselves around her waist, forcing her to sway side to side-off beat. 

She felt his toes step on hers-

_Another time, unspecified._

_A man's arms were wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She felt his lips hover over her own and she opened her eyes-he was tall, with blond hair and grey eyes-_

_Grey eyes._

_He wasn't Jack._

_But she let him kiss her. She let him draw her close to him as they swayed side to side-off beat._

_She took another glance at him-and he could see **her** in his face._

_Sally._

"Jesus, lass!" Atlas cried out. "How much did you drink?" 

Elizabeth looked up at the blur that was Atlas for a moment-her head pounding once more.

"Get up!"

She was sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped around her legs and her chest rising and falling quickly. She placed a hand on the ground and attempted to get up-she felt her knees shake-they were going to give way and she was going to fall again. She was go-

She felt _his_ arms around her, steadying her. She was safe. For the moment, she was safe. 

"That's enough dancing for one night," Jack began, his voice a low growl. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we're going home."

"And you won't even invite me over for a nightcap?" Atlas asked, raising a brow. Elizabeth's eyes met his. "Not very nice of you, huh, _Boyo_?"

"Shut up." 

She wished she could say something-to come up with some sort of retort. Some sort of insult that would bruise Atlas' ego-if only for a moment. But whatever bravado she had moments ago had vanished. Once again, she was the whimpering, confused mess of a woman that she had woken up as. 

She knew that Atlas wouldn't let them walk out the door. 

"We're going home," Jack repeated. 

"No. You're not."

"I need to sit down!" Elizabeth cried out-her head was throbbing and she could barely stand on her own. But that had not been the reason she had yelled. She could _feel_ the eyes of the other patrons staring at the three.

_Good._

"Let's put a raincheck on that nightcap?" Atlas asked, glancing at the group of staring people-he was cornered. 

_For now._

"Fat chance," was Jack's reply. "Fat _fucking_ chance."

* * *

They had to leave. They had to pack up, take the next train to some nondescript mid-Western town, and never look back. Atlas would find them. Atlas would find them anywhere-he had found them tonight. Jack was half convinced that there would be a knock on the door and he would be there, wrench in hand.

And he would kill them _both._

His eyes turned towards Elizabeth-she was laying in bed, holding onto a sleeping Sally. 

"He wants me," she muttered, her voice monotone as she ran her fingers through the girl's hair. "He wants to finish his job."

"He wants us both," Jack muttered, sitting beside Elizabeth and running his fingers through her dark hair. "I won't let him."

"I don't want him to hurt Sally...I'd rather be dead than have him lay a finger on Sally's head."

"Get some sleep."

"I can't."

"Can you try?"

"...O...Okay." She took a breath and closed her eyes-in a matter of moments, she had drifted off into a deep sleep. He pressed his lips on her forehead and turned the light off-he hoped that the two would have a peaceful slumber.

Jack made his way to the living room and plopped onto the couch, his eyes glancing at the ceiling.

"She's asleep," Jack muttered, glancing at Brigid. "Thank you for staying over."

"It's fine," she muttered back-she sat there, almost completely still with a cup of tea in her small hand. 

"I don't know what we're going to do."

"You'll survive." Brigid stared at her shoes. "That is what you learn to do-both of you have done it before. You survive. To succumb to them is the greatest defeat."

"You know he wants us dead."

"I know."

"If it hadn't b-"

"I know."

"We're going to have to leave."

"Not necessarily." Brigid sighed softly. "I am tired of leaving. Of having no place to call home. Aren't you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then fight." There was no bravado in her comment-no powerful inflection or inspirational feeling behind it. It was merely a statement. A statement heavy with the memories of the woman's past. 

Of his own past-most of it fabricated. Of his true past that he repressed-every time a memory came to him, he would wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. 

Of _her_ past that she had forgotten. That had been forcefully taken from her.

"She's been fighting," Brigid began. "I have seen many lobotomized patients-she is lucky that she can still speak. That she can still walk-and she is using that luck to live. And it is not easy." She paused for a moment. "Do you love her?"

Jack's cheeks grew warm and he averted his gaze-a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips and an involuntary chuckle escaped his throat.

" _What_?"

"I see the way you look at her," Brigid commented, raising a dark brow.

"I...uh...."

"You do."

"I mean, I've-I've um...we've kissed."

"You love her."

"...Yes. I suppose I do."

"Good." Brigid smiled-Jack's eyes widened at the sight. Brigid's smile was a strange sight-but not an unwelcomed one. It was surprisingly pleasant. _Motherly_ , almost. The stern gaze that was so characteristic of her was replaced by a kind, soft look in her eyes-her lips were lopsided when she smiled and her eyebrows were raised just a hair. And for a moment, Jack could almost imagine the little girl that the doctor had desperately attempted to snuff out of herself. "You should get to bed."

"I'll take you up on your advice when you do."

"You know sleep does me no good."

"Doesn't do m-" He stopped as soon as he heard _her_ mumble. It was incoherent noise-but it was frantic. "I should g-"

A loud sob rang through the apartment and, without second thought, ran towards their room-

"Get him away from me!" Elizabeth shrieked-Sally was standing in a corner, clinging onto a blanket. "GET HIM AWAY FROM ME!" 

Jack grabbed Elizabeth's shoulders, hoping that she would snap out of whatever hallucination she was caught inside of.

Her eyes met his but he knew that she was not present-she was a thousand miles away, trapped in a world that he had no access to. 

"He's not going to leave me," she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Who isn't?" Jack whispered, carefully placing his hand against her cheek. 

"I drowned him. I _drowned_ him." A whimper escaped her lips. "Oh, God."

"Shh...it's just a dream. You'll wake up at any moment...." He felt her wrap her arms around him and he drew her in close. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, slowly looking up at him-the faraway look in her eyes was gone.

She was awake.

"You alright?" He whispered, already knowing the answer.

"...I saw him-the man I drowned...."

"You haven't drowned anyone."

"...I've done terrible things in the past...."

"So have I." Jack felt his chest tighten-no, he wasn't going to think about that. He had been nothing more than a pawn, unable to control his own actions. He had lived a lie. The man that had arrived in Rapture had died-

He was nothing more than a memory.

"You should get back to bed," Jack finally managed after a moment.

"I can't," she whispered. "I don't want to dream anymore...."

He wouldn't press on about it. She was distraught enough as it was. And he wished he could help, somehow. He knew that nothing he said or did would ease her pain-would heal her of whatever memories afflicted her.

But he had to _try_.

He brought her head to his chest and held her closely, wishing that the past wasn't so haunting. So damning.

But it was.

After all, what was a person if not the sum of their past?

* * *

She had always preferred the night. Less people, less chatting, less noise. At night, it was simply her and the stars. It was a quiet place where she could think. Where she could _be_.

As a child, she had often climbed onto the rooftop of her house and stared at the stars for hours on end as she drew up theories in her mind that she would promptly write in a notebook the following morning. Her mother had discouraged it-women were not meant for such complicated positions. Their position was to be a mother. A wife. A doting, glorified servant for her cold hearted husband who refused to even look at her.

She would never be _that_.

"What are you thinking about?" Robert asked, glancing over at her. "You're unusually quiet."

"A lifetime ago," she replied, a slight smirk forming on her lips. "I'm thinking of a lifetime ago."

"And how is that lifetime?"

"Terribly dull. I much prefer this one."

"So do I."

_Two sides of the same coin._

"Shall we continue?" Robert asked.

"Yes." She wrapped her arm through his and the two continued their walk-headed towards Elizabeth's apartment. If they had truly wanted to, they could have simply appeared there. Unannounced with no silly formalities or fanfare. But there were times when the Luteces enjoyed some semblance of normalcy. They were unknown here-simply a pair of twins-one cold and cynical and the other one humorous and smug. 

Rosalind preferred this lifetime-but there were times that she missed simple aspects of her previous lifetime. 

Oh well, there was little use for nostalgia and regret. What was done was done.

"Ah, Miss Tenenbaum," Robert's voice broke through her thoughts and she blinked a moment, her gaze focusing on the small brunette who was struggling to light a cigarette-she was so terribly small. So fragile and sickly looking. Rosalind knew she was anything but. 

Brigid looked up from her cigarette with wide, hazel eyes-she was beautiful. Perhaps, in another life, she could have been an actress. 

"Allow me," Robert began, shakily pulling out a lighter from his pocket. 

Rosalind glanced at him and smirked. _Almost_. He was infatuated-a lovesick schoolboy.

" _Danke_ ," Brigid muttered, bringing her cigarette close to Robert's lighter. Her eyes met his pale ones for a moment and their gazes lingered as the flame of his lighter touched her cigarette. 

"Uh-" Robert's cheeks grew red and a boyish grin formed on his lips. Rosalind could almost laugh. "You're very welcome, Miss Tenenbaum."

"Why are you here?"

"We were merely taking a walk," Rosalind interjected before her brother could babble on like a fool. 

"You are here to see Elizabeth."

"Yes," Robert replied, nodding his head. Rosalind remained silent for a moment; Brigid Tenenbaum had enchanted her brother. 

"I do not think it is a good time to see her," Brigid began, exhaling a puff of smoke into the air. "She's not doing well."

"We're terribly sorry to hear that," Rosalind replied. "I have to go check something-why don't you keep Brigid company, Robert?" And before Robert could protest, Rosalind had disappeared into the night, leaving him alone with the geneticist. 

"You are red," Brigid commented. Robert raised a brow, confused for a moment-was she referring to his hair? "Why are you red?"

His _face_. She was commenting on his face-oh God, he was _blushing_. 

"Must be the cold," Robert blurted out.

"Interesting." 

He was at a loss for words-Robert had never been particularly _good_ with women. He had his romances in his younger days-they had never ended well. He had abandoned all romantic notions quite some time ago and had devoted himself to his work and to his sister.

"It is very cold," Brigid began-she was not one for small talk but the man that stood before her seemed terribly uncomfortable. "What is your relationship to Elizabeth?"

"We know her-and we knew her father."

"Her _father_?" 

"Yes, Miss Tenenbaum."

"I see." She blew another puff of smoke into the air and smirked. "You are uneasy."

"Oh."

"Why is that?" 

"I uh-erm-I don't know...must be the cold again."

" _Must_ be." 

They stood there in complete silence, their gazes locked on each other.

Snow began to fall.

But neither Robert nor Brigid cared. 

There was something so terribly enchanting about _her_ -yes, Robert was enraptured. There was some silly part of him that wished to recite poetry to her. To write love letters filled with prose so saccharine that it was near vomit inducing. To exchange flirtatious glances in the middle of a crowded hall.

But something told him that she cared little for those antiquated gestures.

She was a practical woman, immune to romantic notions.

"Do you want to grab a pot of coffee?" Robert finally asked. 

"What about your sister?"

"Oh, she never strays far." He slowly extended a gloved hand.

Brigid stared at it for a moment before placing her small hand on top of his. 

" _Alright_."

* * *

Elizabeth could not sleep. Jack had fallen asleep and Sally was wrapped beneath the covers, her head buried in the pillow. And all Elizabeth could do was stare at the slightly cracked ceiling of the bedroom. 

She couldn't fall back asleep. She couldn't fall back asleep; she would see the reflection of the man she drowned. The man who had been drilled through. The man who had died a thousand deaths but would not _die_.

She couldn't fall back asleep; she'd find herself dancing with a shadowy figure that she could not recall. She'd find herself in a pale hospital room, completely alone.

She couldn't fall back asleep.

So she slowly got out of bed and made her way towards the front door-what was she _doing_? She had just been accosted by that bastard-she knew that he would hurt her if he caught her alone.

He would finish what he started.

Perhaps it was best if she left. If she left Jack and Sally-she only brought them trouble. She only brought them trouble and sorrow and pain that she could barely tolerate herself.

She could simply pack a bag and leave-catch a train to somewhere. Run until Atlas inevitably caught up with her. 

"You're not going to abandon her again, are you?" Elizabeth jumped and turned around to face the ginger woman.

"How did you get inside?" Elizabeth whispered, her eyes wide.

"That is not important." The woman sat down on the couch, taking her gloves off and raising a brow.

"...Rosalind?"

" _Yes_. At least you remember my name." 

"I-I...."

"Yes?"

"What do you mean 'abandon her again'?"

"You really don't remember anything at all, do you?"

Elizabeth shook her head, feeling tears well up in her eyes. 

"I....I'm nothing but trouble," Elizabeth whispered, slowly sitting beside the woman. "I've made terrible choices in my life. I've done terrible things."

"That is in the past-a past which, fortunately for you, cannot be remembered."

"I remember some of it."

"Do you?"

"Yes-in dreams or when I stare at something. It triggers a memory."

"Certainly." 

Elizabeth was silent for a moment-had she abandoned Sally before? Had she run away as she was now planning to do so in a life that was nearly forgotten? 

"I wish someone could just be _direct_ with me," Elizabeth finally sighed, grabbing a box of cigarettes from the coffee table. "All I know is that everyone is speaking in riddles-I'm not a child."

"But _she_ is."

_A crib pushed at the edge of a room-the sunlight streamed through the window, warming her face. The soft cries of an infant could be heard and slowly, almost gingerly, she approached the crib._

_A pair of bright blue eyes stared back at her-a little arm extended, reaching towards her._

_The infant was distraught. Alone._

_Abandoned._

"No," Elizabeth whispered, shaking her head. "No, no, no. It's not true-it's not true." Elizabeth stood up, staring at Rosalind and forcing herself to hold back tears.

"You have a chance to fix this." Rosalind slowly stood up, brushing her skirt out. 

"Does s-she know?"

"You have a chance to fix this," Rosalind repeated, raising a brow as she headed towards the front door. "Use it wisely."

In the blink of an eye, she was gone and Elizabeth was, once again, left alone. 

She could leave. Leave Jack and Sally alone. Abandon Sally once more. 

Or she could stay. Stay and wait until Atlas found her. Wait until Atlas harmed _them_.

Or...she could find Atlas herself. 

She took a breath and slowly made her way towards the front door-she needed air. Perhaps she would go to the rooftop where Jack had kissed her as the sun had risen. She could still feel his fingers brush through her hair and his hand cling onto her waist as she felt his breath against his lips.

For everything she had forgotten, a vivid memory had been made.

She walked out of the apartment and began making her way down the fluorescently lit hallway-the walls were bleached and the only decoration were abstract paintings that hanged on the walls.

The soft humming of the lights could be heard but the hallways were empty.

It was almost as if she had stepped into another dimension-a dimension where it was only her that existed. 

But the sound of heavy footsteps approaching her quickly broke that ridiculous, nonsensical delusion. 

Sapphire eyes widened as she felt a hand press against her cheek roughly, almost as if it was trying to tear the flesh off of her face.

"Alone at last, lassie," he whispered into her ear as her yanked her hair with his other hand. "Alone at last."


	5. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting hot in here, so yell into the void.  
> (CW: Also, there is a sex scene at the end of this chapter, just letting y'all know)

_The soft hum of a melody enveloped the room and the dim lights formed a hazy kaleidoscope above her._

_She attempted to open her eyes just a tad more-_

_She couldn't._

_Her fingertips moved slightly against the worn bedsheets as she attempted to lift her hand an inch-_

_She couldn't._

_The mere act of laying there felt as if she was being held by weights._

_She wanted to scream-_

_she couldn't._

She couldn't scream-she could feel his fingers entwined in her hair as he forced her to walk down what seemed to be an endless hallway.

She wanted to scream. To press her elbow against his ribs until they shattered. To bring her foot to his groin and watch him writhe in pain.

But she couldn't. She was frozen, unable to move her limbs or produce a scream. 

"Almost there," he whispered as he pulled her head back. "You're awfully quiet, aren't ya'?"

"Let. Go." Elizabeth's voice was but a faint whisper-almost a ghost. "Let. Go."

"Ah, _there_ she goes." His grip tightened. "Never could keep quiet for long, could ya'?"

"What do you want with me? Are you going to shove another icepick in my eye?"

"Still as stubborn as ever."

"You didn't answer my _question_."

"Maybe an icepick won't work with ya'." He stopped in front of a door. "Not to worry, I have other methods of... _persuasion_."

"If it's information you want, I can't remember a thing...." A smile formed on her lips. "You did a good job with _that_."

"That pretty little mouth of you is what got you in trouble the first time." He turned around to face her, hand still entwined in her hair and a grotesque smile on his face. "But you just don't learn, do you?'

"If you're going to kill me, just do it."

"I thought about it-thought about wringing that pretty little neck of yours until you turned blue." He brought his other hand to her neck, stroking his fingertips against it. "Thought about leaving that pretty little face of yours rotting...you've got such a pretty face for someone with such a foul mouth." He stopped for a moment and let go of her. "Has he been having fun with you?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" She whispered, inching away from him, clinging onto her nightgown.

"I've seen the way he looks at you-you're his little whore, aren't you?" He neared her and she closed her eyes. "You like being used?" His hand reached for her head again and, without another thought, she swung at him as hard as she could, striking his cheek.

Silence.

Followed by an unbearable ringing in her ears.

She struck again, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The sound of bone breaking.

She was not sure if it was her own or his.

She could see nothing-all she knew was that she had to fight. That she had to fight-not for herself. For Sally. For Jack. For everything that she had learned to love in this new life. For everything that _he_ had taken away from her.

No more.

No. More.

"No more!" She cried out, her hands swinging wildly about. "No _more_!"

"Elizabeth!" She felt a pair of hands grab her own. But they were not Atlas' hands. 

She looked up.

"Jack," she whispered before burying her head in his chest.

"That fuckin' bitch," she heard Atlas groan. 

The sound of a stomp and bone breaking once again.

"We have to go," Jack whispered. 

"What about Sally?" Elizabeth muttered. "Sally...."

"She's safe...she'll be safe."

"Will _we_?"

"I don't know."

* * *

"You broke his nose," Jack mumbled, staring at the bowl of soup that sat in front of him.

"He called me a whore," Elizabeth muttered, picking at the pieces of hamburger she had left on her plate. "He deserved it."

They looked like hell-Elizabeth in his sweater, far too large for her, and her dark curls a tattered, knotted mess. He was still in his undershirt and he hadn't shaved in days. But no one cared-they were in a diner at four in the morning in New York. Hell, they might have been the most normal looking ones there.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do that for?" Jack began, a slight smile forming on his lips.

"Do what? Break his nose?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

"Too long...but you beat me to it." 

Elizabeth smirked and shook her head. Her eyes met his and she sighed.

"When can I see Sally again?" She muttered.

"Couple of days...I should've killed him."

"Jack...." She stopped for a moment and her eyes gazed out at the window, staring at the few stars that shone. 

_A city in the sky._

_A maiden sitting at the window of her tower, a hand pressed against the glass pane._

_Longing to see a world that she had only read about in books-that she had only seen in photographs._

"I've always wanted to go to Paris," Elizabeth began, her voice almost unsure. "Ever since I was a girl."

"Really?" His eyes widened slightly and he extended his hand towards Elizabeth.

"Really." She took it and closed her eyes for a moment. "What about you?"

"What have I always wanted?"

"Yes."

"A family."

* * *

Uneasy was an understatement. She was a stranger in their home-a neat little apartment with tasteful furnishings. 

She had been a stranger many times in her life-she had been made to feel a stranger in her own community. Made to feel as if she was less than human-nothing but a disposable piece of waste.

"Stop it," she whispered to her reflection, her lips quivering from the cold. "Stop it."

A knock on the door followed by the shuffling of feet.

"Miss Tenenbaum?" Robert's voice called. "Are you quite alright in there?"

"Yes, thank you," Brigid replied, turning the sink on and splashing freezing water onto her face. 

It had all happened so terribly quickly. Jack had found her in the little café and had begged her to take Sally somewhere safe-Atlas was after them. After _Elizabeth_. It was Robert who had offered to take Brigid and Sally to the apartment he currently occupied with his sister. Brigid had hurriedly agreed-and there was a part of her that wished he hadn't. 

She could just leave. Leave Sally with them and find her own place to stay-go back to her own apartment. She wasn't afraid of Atlas-of Frank. All she felt for him was disdain, disgust, and regret-

And here was Robert, doting on her and treating her as if she was some sort of princess. She saw the way his cheeks glowed a bright crimson every time she caught his glance. She had felt his hand brush against her for a mere moment and hastily retreat. 

No man had acted in that manner-they all either ignored her or placed their hands where they pleased without any regard to what she wanted. 

Not that it mattered. A woman such as her didn't deserve love.

She glanced at her reflection once more before walking out of the bathroom and towards the living room where Rosalind was sitting, almost mimicking a statue in her posture and stony visage.

"Is Sally asleep?" Brigid asked, her voice a low whisper-almost afraid to break the woman's concentration.

"Yes. Robert managed to get her to sleep," Rosalind replied, a slight smile forming on her lips. "He's always been better with children than I have."

"Thank you."

"Certainly. Would you care for some tea, Miss Tenenbaum?"

"No. Thank you."

"Very well." There was silence for a moment. "I think I shall retire to bed early."

"I should g-"

"Go where?"

"Back to my apartment."

"Stay here. We have a guest room for you-it will only be a few days."

"Are you sure?"

"Miss Tenenbaum, I wish to assure you that you are no burden to us-quite the opposite, you are a distinguished guest in our home." Rosalind stood up and bowed her head. "Goodnight, Miss Tenenbaum."

"Goodnight, Miss Lutece." 

Brigid watched Rosalind walk down the hallways and disappear, almost like a ghost, and she sighed. She knew she would not sleep-she rarely did. And if she slept, she would wake up in an hour, gasping for air, staring at her hands, convinced that blood was on them.

She slowly stood up and began to walk through the living room, careful to not disturb the tea cups on the coffee table or the large shelves containing books-scientific journals, works of fiction, maps, and music books all neatly stashed away.

She continued to walk, her eyes resting on a piano-it was a gorgeous thing, freshly polished with loose sheet music resting on top of it. She gingerly picked one up and managed a lopsided smile-a selection from _Fidelio_. It was a piece she knew well. One her father had played hundreds of times before and one she had committed to memory.

"Do you play?" Robert's voice startled her and she turned around, dropping the music.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she replied, bending down to pick up the music. "I shoul-"

"It's quite alright, Miss Tenenbaum. You...you've done nothing wrong."

"But I have."

Her gaze met his as she slowly rose-she felt her heartbeat quicken and her cheeks grow red. 

"I don't play," she whispered. "Never had the patience for it."

"Neither does my sister." He smirked slightly.

"My father played...do you play?"

"Yes-it kept me company as a child."

"I want to hear you." She was unsure _why_ she had said that, but she could not take it back. All she could do was stare at him in embarrassment. Why was she acting this way? Had his awkwardness rubbed off on her? Had his pleasant demeanor towards her stirred something within her that she thought she was incapable of? No, she certainly couldn't be enamored by a man who had merely opened a door for her.

But she wanted to hear him play.

He smiled in return-a lopsided smile that reminded her of schoolboys in their uniforms, waving shyly as their cheeks grew red. His cheeks _did_ grow red as he slowly sat down on the bench and scooted slightly, patting the spot next to him.

She sat down beside him, careful to not allow her thigh to rest against his. Careful to keep her distance. She had to. 

She could not allow herself to fall in love-not with him. She was not deserving of it. Of being loved by anyone; this was her atonement. A woman like her deserved nothing. 

He began to play. His fingertips were gentle against the keys and she watched his eyes close ever so slightly as he tapped his foot against the floor, keeping time. And for a moment, she was back in her home-a small, cramped affair-sitting on the couch next to her grandmother, watching her father play.

For a moment, she was safe-and though it was an illusion, she did not want to leave it. Did not want to be torn away once more from the life she had lost. 

She closed the distance between them, pressing her shoulder against his.

And she did not move away.

* * *

It was an ugly room-the walls were cracked and the bed was worn and squeaked as Elizabeth sat on it, taking her shoes off. She sighed softly and her eyes met Jack's-he was trying to light a lamp.

"It's awful," he mumbled, a slight smile forming on his lips.

"At least we're safe," Elizabeth replied, slowly standing up and walking towards him. "For now."

"I should've killed the son of a bitch when I had the chance."

"If you had killed him, they would have arrested you-" She sighed softly as she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Her curls had fallen out and her hair hung limply past her shoulders, her eyeshadow was smudged from the countless tears she had shed, and her stockings were torn. But she was alive. She was alive and she was with Jack. "If we're going to kill him, we need to do it somewhere where we won't be caught."

Jack's eyes widened slightly and he raised a brow, speechless for a moment. 

"...You're right," Jack mumbled as he headed towards the small suitcase they had packed. "Elizabeth-I have so much blood on my hands."

"So do I."

"I...." He took a breath. "I know what we have to do but I'm _tired_ of death. Tired of running-my whole life has been a goddamn lie and I just want to start over again. I want a family-a real family. Not a father and mother that you barely knew and fake memories." He stopped himself as he watched tears roll down Elizabeth's cheeks and averted his gaze. "I'm sorry-"

"No. I know." Carefully, almost shyly, she approached him, and placed her hand against his face. "You want to be loved. You _deserve_ to be loved." 

He stood still for a moment, staring into her sapphire eyes for a moment-they were like the ocean, so easy to get lost in them. His fingertip brushed against her cheek, wiping her tears away. 

He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, his fingers running through her hair and his body pressing closer to hers. He felt safe-safe among the cracked walls and the dusty night tables. 

When he kissed her, it was as if all his worries melted away. For this moment, it was only her and him and nothing else mattered. 

He felt her fingers tug at his shirt and, without hesitation, he pulled it off, slowly breaking their kiss. He watched her as her eyes fell on his chest and she placed her hand against it, feeling his chest rise and fall. Her eyes met his and his hands frantically began to tug her sweater-his sweater, really-off of her. He wanted her-wanted to form a real memory.

All he had were memories of parents that never existed, of a farmhouse that was a mere mirage, of names and faces that were nothing more than hallucinations. 

But this was real. _She_ was real. The soft skin against his hand was tangible and the feeling of her body pressed against his was real.

"Do you want to do this?" He whispered, looking down at her-the sweater had been tossed to the floor and only a thin slip covered her body. He pressed his hand against her face and smiled softly.

"Of course," she whispered, breathless. "Do you?"

"Yes." 

That was all it took for his hands to pull at her slip as he felt her fingers unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. 

"Take me to bed," she whispered, pressing her lips against his. 

He smiled and picked her up, laying her gently on the old bed-he slowly climbed on top of her, allowing his finger to trace down her neck and to her chest, covered by a lacy brassiere. 

"Let me take that off," she mumbled, a soft smile forming on her lips as she sat up and unhooked her brassiere before tossing it to the floor. Jack's cheeks grew warm as his gaze travelled down to her bare chest, unsure how to proceed. Slowly, almost instinctually, his hand cupped her right breast and Elizabeth's lips parted slightly as she felt him squeeze it gently. 

Elizabeth's hands slid down to her panties and she slowly began to pull them down, spreading her legs-he was so gentle with her, perhaps just a tad too much. But she didn't mind it-his touch was comforting. Familiar, almost. 

His eyes wandered from her pale breasts down to her stomach and between her legs-his hand followed suit and his eyes widened as he brushed against her and felt her tense a little bit.

"Here," she whispered, her hand meeting his and slowly guiding it up just a little-her eyes met his as her own finger slid onto her clitoris and she began to rub it, her lips parting ever so slightly. "Do it." She removed her finger and replaced it with his own and he began to rub, slowly and carefully-he was afraid.

Afraid of hurting her-her small, delicate frame seemed to fragile beneath him, almost as if it could break at any moment. Her face had grown red and her eyes were half closed. 

"How does it feel?" he whispered.

"Good," was her breathless reply. He hesitantly began to pick up speed, watching her lips began to part slightly more-a moan escaped her lips as he continued-each movement slowly inching her towards a climax. "Jack...Jack...." Her hands reached for the waistband of his underwear and she began to pull it down. 

He shivered as he felt her eyes travel between his own legs-he was hard and it was obvious that she could tell with just a glance-

"...S...Sorry," he whispered, a slight smile forming on his lips.

"What are you sorry for?" She whispered, raising a brow.

And he laughed-and he heard her voice break into a laugh. He wasn't sure why he apologized. Here they were, exposed to each other completely, stripped away of any barrier, baring themselves to the other.

It was a strange sensation for him-in a way, it felt much like the life that he had known but had never existed. Was he truly with her? With a woman so beautiful and so delicate who wanted him as much as he wanted her? Or was it some dream? Some cruel trick of the mind? 

"Jack, we can stop if you want," she whispered, placing her hand on his face.

"I don't want to," Jack replied, his voice breaking. "I just want this to be real-I want _us_ to be real."

"We are...we are...and I love you."

He pressed his lips against hers as his finger against her clitoris began to move rapidly-he could feel her lips quiver against his and hear the small, labored breaths she took as he continued to pleasure her. 

Her hand gripped onto the bed as she felt herself clenching slightly, trying to hold off her climax-she wanted to wait for him. Feel him inside her. Hear his labored breathing and feel his hands on her body.

"You're close," he whispered against her lips. "I can feel it."

"I-I'm waiting...."

He pressed his body closer to hers and she spread her legs just a tad more, ready to accommodate him. He watched her as he slowly brought his tip inside of her-her body grew tense and her eyes widened slightly.

"I'm sorry...does it hurt?" He asked, eyes wide with concern.

"No...not at all," she replied, smiling sweetly. "You're so gentle."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not hurting me." She pressed a hand against his cheek and smiled softly. 

"You're okay?"

"Yes. You?"

He nodded softly and began to slowly press himself into her-her lips parted and she closed her eyes. 

And for a moment, she could forget. Forget the nightmares that plagued her and the memories that came back in fragments-she was _here,_ alone with Jack in a small hotel room making love.

And for now, that was all that mattered.

Her hips began to roll as she felt him quicken and heard his breath becoming labored. Her hand slid down from his cheek to his neck, his chest, his back-exploring every inch of her as he pressed his lips against her entire body.

"I-I'm close," Jack whispered into her ear before pressing his lips against her neck. "Elizabeth...."

"Yes, Jack?" She opened her eyes, her lips quivering and her thighs beginning to shake as she clenched herself around him. 

"God, I love you." He stared down at her for a moment before pressing his lips against hers, his hand reaching towards her breast and his fingers pinching at her nipple. 

"I...I love you too," she whispered. "T...Touch me...."

"O..okay," he whispered, letting his hand travel between her legs- she cried out, grabbing onto the bedsheets as she felt him rub it in quick little circles. 

She felt him climax inside of her and she followed suit, letting out a small moan before glancing up at him, watching his face slowly begin to relax. 

"Elizabeth," he moaned as he finished, slowly pushing himself away from her and falling beside her. "Are you alright?"

"Never been better," Elizabeth replied, turning to face him. He pressed his forehead against her and smiled.

"Why are you crying?"

"I am?" Elizabeth brought her finger to her cheek and wiped a tear away-she was happy. Truly happy with Jack-and though she could not remember, she knew that she had never experienced a moment like this one. With Jack, she felt safe. She felt loved.

And she knew that she had never felt truly loved before-no one had loved her.

"You said you wanted a family, didn't you?" she whispered as she rested her head on his chest.

"Yes," he replied, running his fingers through her hair. 

"I think...I think that we can be a family. Just you, me, and Sally...."

"I think I'd like that very much."

They did not speak and slowly drifted off into a dreamless sleep, curled into an embrace. For the moment, they were happy.

But happiness seldom lasts.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to leave feedback; it's incredibly appreciated and helps me improve future chapters. I'll see you in the next chapter.


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